


Music Drabbles

by Ember Nickel (primeideal)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/Ember%20Nickel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 very short stories inspired by songs, and written in the time it takes for the songs to play. Everything from the Bloody Baron to Hermione's parents. Originally written December 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.  
> 2\. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.  
> 3\. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterward!  
> 4\. Do ten of these, then post them.

**1\. Baseball Card Lover—Rockin' Ritchie Ray**

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron pulled the box out from under his bed, his face tilting red like his hair.

"What?" he asked. "Go on, say it."

"I said nothing!" Shaking her head, she knelt beside him and reached for another box.

"These have got to be worth good money by now. Back when I got them, they were just for fun, but they might actually fetch a Galleon or two."

"Galleons are the least of my worries, believe me," said Hermione. "I just didn't expect you to still be reading  _The Adventures of Martin Miggs_."

"I think there are still some  _Quidditch Today—_ never mind."

**2\. Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love—Coldplay**

"You remember Ron, right?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Ron, yes. It's nice to see you again." Her father gave a broad smile. All their smiles seemed large these days, her parents'-broad and simple and childish. The whole world seemed childish.

"And this was our flat, I suppose," her mother gestured.

"You  _suppose_?" Hermione echoed. Paranoia was another curse, now. Even though they'd won, there was so much to still be afraid of. The world was fragile, and took a long time to put back together. "How well do you remember all of it?"

"Oh, perfectly. This was definitely our flat. It just seems so strange to think about."

"The accents were the worst part," her father reminisced, amused. "When people would ask us where we were from, it got to be a little insulting at times."

"Only once in a while," her mother rushed. Covering for her.

"I'm-" she began.

"Don't be sorry, Hermione, you're too clever by half," said Ron. "What my dad wouldn't give to live here for a week."

"He's welcome to visit us back home," Hermione's father offered.

"No," Ron said fervently. "No, you don't know him at all."

"Maybe for...just an hour or so?" Hermione suggested.

"He'll say an hour, then watch, the afternoon will go by and he won't have seen the kitchen yet. C'mon, let's get to the pitch. Do they have buses or something down here?"

The Grangers laughed. "This is Sydney, not the outback."

**3\. Universal—Klein Four**

Luna sat on top of the Astronomy tower. Not  _on top_  of, of course. That'd be dangerous. Maybe if she was looking for a Firebird, but she wasn't that desperate.

Luna sat inside the Astronomy tower, near the top. It was almost time...ah, yes. The professor climbed up the stairs, smiling at the young Ravenclaw. "It's nice to see you again, Luna."

"You too."

Friday nights were open nights in the tower, but she rarely had company up there. Sometimes, there were a gaggle of seventh-years nervously studying for NEWTs, but mostly she was alone.

Which was fine. The professor had assumed she was reviewing, too, at first. But week after week? No, this was something she couldn't do in textbooks.

Focusing, she stared out at the man in the moon.  _I know you can't hear me from this distance, but I'm looking for the Voice-Magnification spells. The library is very unclear, but I should be ready by next year._

**4\. Is This the Fall?-Carbon Leaf**

"I don't mind waiting," Arthur forced himself to say. "If you don't."

"I don't either," Molly sighed. "And if things were different, I would. But...I'm scared, is all."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a scary time."

"And I just think, love is what we have, and they don't. I don't like them forcing our hands like this, but just living and, and loving—that's the biggest spit in their face they've ever seen."

Arthur smiled. "It'll take a couple weeks to schedule the preacher. There are a lot more like us, I think."

"I can wait," Molly smiled in return. "I can wait so we don't have to."

_What am I going to tell my parents?_  Arthur was inwardly wondering. But there would be time to sort that out later. There had to be.

**5\. Nothing Left to Lose—Mat Kearney**

Neville stared after Harry until he was out of sight, then turned around and walked towards the dark school. There were forms lying throughout the grass—actually dead, or lying in wait for him? It wouldn't do any good to carry bodies around. Someone bigger than him, stronger than him, could handle it.

Kill the snake. He couldn't see what good it would do, but if Harry had suggested it, it had to be a good idea. Had to be. If Harry was wrong, they were fighting for a lie.

"Neville?"

It was Ginny.

"I thought I heard..." Ginny sounded as if she was changing course. "voices. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he nodded. "And you?"

"Fine, for now. It's good to see you."

He holds her hand, gripping it tightly. Whether he's trying to draw strength or give it, he can't tell. She doesn't seem to mind.

"I'd better go. There's something—something I have to do." And he's going to seek it out? Without meaning to, he realizes he is.

He was a Gryffindor, after all, for better or for worse.

**6\. Stefanie (The Ballad of Galois)—Klein Four**

"Helena," the Baron whispered. "Helena?"

He thought he could hear her. Had she chosen to stay behind? The only fate worse than death, his snooty uncles had said, was life. Unending life, stuck in the gray world people spent their whole lives escaping from.

And he did not deserve that escape. No matter how long he lived, he never would.

The Baron fingered the dagger, cold like his clammy fingertips. They blended into a frozen nothingness until he could no longer tell where his body ended and the blade began. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt.

Perhaps that was too much to hope for.

He could wait, yes, but by then it wouldn't have made a difference.

Teeth chattering, he moved the dagger in one fluid motion. There was an explosion of pain and dizziness.  _How long do I have? Will I have the choice? I want to stay, whoever's up there, I—no, I don't want, I deserve, keep me here._

The room faded into whiteness. And then through the whiteness, he caught sight of something motionless on the ground. His body. It had worked.

Still bleeding in two places, the Bloody Baron began to float away.

"Helena?"

**7\. Last Night on Earth—Green Day**

Goyle stared vacantly at the chalkboard. There was something written on it. Words.

"And  _this_ ," Carrow smiled, "is called Fiendfyre."

Goyle blinked, slowly moving pen to paper. It was not a particularly engaging doodle.

The teacher said nothing, simply staring at a piece of chalk set down at a careful distance. Suddenly, the chalk was in flames. The spell only lasted an instant before the professor was pointing a wand at the chalk and extinguishing the fire.

"As you can tell, it is a particularly powerful spell. We do not have enough supplies to use it for very long, which means we will need to focus on its theoretical nature. Something  _some_  of you-" a pointed look at Goyle-"have trouble with."

Back to doodling.

**8\. Calculating—Klein Four**

Hermione flipped the time-turner again. Where was she off to now? Or when?

Emerging into the crowded hallway, she glanced down at the schedule she'd hastily drawn up. Of course—she'd dropped Divination! She didn't have anything scheduled "now".

It was so tempting to use the extra hour to work on her Muggle Studies essay. But once she started using time-travel that way, she'd never get over the addiction. No, this hour was worthless.

Could she flip  _forward_? McGonagall had never mentioned that possibility, and Hermione knew better than to play with time  _that_  frivolously. No, this mistake was hers alone. She would pay the penalty.

When the hallway thinned out, Hermione ducked back into the closet she used for the jumps back. Almost an hour to go, trapped in the darkness without a clock.

She  _deserved_ it.

And, a little voice told her, she needed a neater schedule.

**9\. Musical Fruitcake—Klein Four**

The Weasleys—and ever-increasing extended family-gathered around the table.  _Engorgio_  had failed to work as desired—though the table would grow in the desired direction, it would also grow in every other dimension, and leave them no room to navigate. So it was that they squeezed shoulder to shoulder (or lap to body in Fleur and Victoire's) case.

Every corner of the room was lost in its own conversation. "And I'm telling you, it's the Cannons' year"- "work is very interesting, thanks" "she's so cute" The nonsense rang out like music.

**10\. O Holy Night—Luciano Pavarotti**

"Well?" McGonagall snapped irritably. "What do you mean, "well"?"

"Well, is everything in order?" Dumbledore quietly responded.

"Of course everything's in order! Why would it not be in order? There's only a dozen of us, it's always in order."

"Very well," Dumbledore smiled. "I'll see you shortly, just have a few owls to send."

McGonagall glanced at the package on the corner of the desk. "Next year, you can go spend Christmas with your brother, if you'd rather..."

"Ah, Aberforth has always reminded me of...what do the Muggles call him? Grooge? I forget. This time of the year is not his favorite, anyway. But I appreciate the offer."

"Is it that bad?"

Dumbledore seemed to shrug. "I think the prospect of an incarnate god in the form of a Muggle infant is less than appealing to him. Resentment, perhaps? No matter, save me some eggnog."


End file.
